Normal this is how to die
by Secoluna
Summary: DMC3. Dante's perspective during the game. "But here we go again. This is another fight. Always another fight".


**Normal (this is how to die).**

Easy: [_From your brother. He sent this invitation for you. Please accept it._]

It starts like this.  
Temen-Ni-Gru: big giant tower in the middle of town.  
The first thing he thought of was Vergil. Then, he thought, _oooo shiny_ – it was followed by _what is it this time?_ Or was that before or after _damn, I'm hungry_ (_laughter was always the best medicine_).

Temen-Ni-Gru. Sometimes he wishes they were normal.

For once.

But as fate had it, he was screwed from the beginning (_Hello ridiculously hot babe, my name is Dante. I'm part demon and part human, want to know which part?_ ). He's got daddy to thank for that.

Oh, don't get him wrong he doesn't have daddy issues (Lie 1: _He does_). He doesn't really think about daddy dearest. He doesn't think about it. He just…...just lives for the moment. It's always about the nows and the right heres. He doesn't think about it.

Besides, his family is your typical dysfunctional family – mother dead, father a demon, brother trying to take over the world. The usual.

You know he could just walk away right now. It's so easy to just walk away. So easy to turn around. So easy to ignore. So easy to forget.

But he doesn't.

* * *

Hard: [_You showed up_].

He paused before he stepped onto the platform. He paused - just for a second. Walk away. Ignore it. Forget it. But it is too late now (_but really he can't_).

So they do what they do best (_what they've always done_). They fight. They exchange banter just to distract themselves. The rain can't wash away their memories.

(This is typical. This is normal).

Take a breath. This is fun. Blades against blades, deflecting rain (_memories_) that won't go away. One step there and duck from there. He kicks, he punches and he spins. Let the sparks fly. He is not thinking of the fight. He really should. But he isn't. He is thinking of chocolate cake his mother use to bake. (Keywords: **use to**). He thought of how Vergil would steal the biggest cake piece. He thought of how he would _let_ Vergil steal the biggest cake piece. He would kill to have some cake right now.

It's a battle of wills.

Then, it is all over. There's always an end.

He tries to grab for his brother's hand but it is always about swords. They do not talk. He is weak (_psst, you both are_).

And the very last thing he thought of as he lies in his own blood (_so red, so human_) was Vergil hogging the covers at night. They were only 6 but they already knew what it's like to scream in murder.

(Death is normal).

* * *

Very Hard:[_You seem to be in a bad mood._]

It's Round 2 again. It is always the same fight, same moves, same desperation and same distraction. Words are exchanged but they're not talking. Remember swords over words. They can't talk like normal people.

Blood is spilled and he realises he is not enjoying himself. His coat feels heavier and he really doesn't want to raise the sword. But he does, for old time sake.

Smirk. Can't do this. Push harder. Can't do this. Forget the pain. Can't do this. Forget the past. Can't do this. Fight harder. Can't do this. Take it. Can't do this. This is nothing. Focus on the moment. This is fun. Don't die.

This is their normal.

(But something is missing. It's not the same. They're losing it. This is serious. They're not 6 anymore).

* * *

Dante must Die: [_Brother_]

But here we go again. This is another fight (_always another fight_) and he doesn't recognise his brother anymore. It is another person. Where is the Vergil that he just fought side by side with? Where is the Vergil that laughed at him and told him to get up when he fell off the roof? This is not Vergil. This is not Vergil. This is not Vergil (it's easier to think like that right? Think like a demon - how _easy_ for you).

This is your reflection. This is what could be.

And he needs to stop it. They fight but it is not their normal fight. They're in hell surrounded by their ancestor's footprints. The sound of the water should deafen his ears but all he could hear is end. End. End. End. Blades are raised. (_I've got to stop you, there's no-one else_).

This one spells out the end (_will there ever be?_). But it has to be done. It has to.

Till death do us apart.

So, he delivers his last blow. They don't do goodbyes. Blades against blades. His brother falls, literally falls. He does what he has always does – he reaches for his brother.

Don't ask him why (_remember, you were meant to stop him?_). He hates his brother (Lie 2: _He doesn't_). All he knows there goes normalcy down to hell. Fitting, really.

(Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my last confession).

His brother is gone. And he does what he always does. He drowns in dust and bullets. This is normal for him.


End file.
